I for­got — the other night Noah was tak­ing a bath in our bath­tub, which is a huge tub made by a com­pany called Jetta. It’s big enough to fit 2 peo­ple, so when he takes a bath in there I get in there with him for safety rea­sons. It’s pretty deep and if some­thing hap­pened I want to be right there. So he’s play­ing around, doing things that he’s learned in swim class, like blow­ing bub­bles, and putting his face in the water, and we’re just play­ing around, hav­ing fun, and he decides he’s going to act like when we get on the side of the pool and then jump in, but the side of the tub is too high, so he uses the arm­rest of the tub. He sits on the arm­rest of the tub and starts his countdown.

“10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1!” and he slides down the arm­rest into the water, but some­thing hap­pens and he jumps up out of the water, a look of pain on his face.

Yep, he’d just racked himself.

It’s funny to think of now, but at the time I was wor­ried that he’d shat­tered some­thing or torn some­thing, so I exam­ined him and deter­mined by his almost imme­di­ate inter­est in other things that he was fine, but man, that scared me for a second.

Yeah, I’m still laugh­ing about it now. And I’m not a bad daddy.